A Meal Gone Wrong
by Kamkats
Summary: When LeBeau runs out of ingredients, he makes a pot of not-so-good chili. Little does he know that it will affect his fellow POWs in more ways than one. My first HH fic.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay, here's my first ever HH fanfic! Hope you like! Credit for the plot goes out to the author of Night Terrors, Vanessa Sgroi. If you have any suggestions on grammar and punctuation, please let me know, for I live in fear of such errors. :)_

LeBeau put down a big pot of something or other in front of the crew. Hogan rubbed his hands together, anticipating his favorite cook's next meal installment.

"What have you got for us today, LeBeau?" the colonel asked.

LeBeau didn't look very happy; his brow was furrowed and his mouth was twisted in a scowl.

"Chili." he snapped ungraciously. Hogan cocked an eyebrow and Kinchloe frowned.

"Chili? LeBeau, Don't you think that that's a little beneath you?" Kinch questioned.

LeBeau huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, so is cooking for the krauts to keep them busy every time you need to go somewhere! I give them the finest French food and they gobble it down like a pack of wolves. That's beneath me!"

"Eh, what brought this on?" Newkirk asked with a slight grin; he was taking delight in LeBeau's frustration. Carter stood up and craned his neck to see the bubbling chili in the soup pot.

"What? Did you run out of ingredients?" he queried. Hogan laughed.

"Oh, come on Carter! When have we ever run out of ingredients?" he demanded, thinking such a thought to be quite amusing. LeBeau popped his CO's bubble.

"Ever since Klink started putting a guard on the kitchen!" he said curtly. Hogan got serious. "A guard on the kitchen? Why?"

"Maybe old Klink caught on to our cooking operation?" Kinchloe suggested.

Newkirk shook his head. "Aw, do you think he'd notice if three sacks of potatoes went missing from his kitchen? He's probably planning some special meal for one of his dates."

Hogan smirked. He was thinking, "What dates?"

"Well, there's got to be some reason for it. I better go ask him." Hogan concluded, announcing the latter in a very tongue-in-cheek way.

"Well, go ask him later, soup's on!" LeBeau snapped, still unhappy about having to stoop to prepare such a meal.

Carter was the first to shove his bowl forward and got a big helping of chili slopped into his bowl. Some of it splattered onto the sergeant's face and he blinked.

"Thanks." he muttered.

Hogan served himself and gave LeBeau a reassuring pat on the back.

"Don't worry, LeBeau, we won't hold this against you." he said with a grin.

As the colonel went to sit down, LeBeau made a face at him. Kinch caught the look and smirked.

"Dig in!" LeBeau declared, still very unhappy.

Carter took a big spoonful and slurped it up. He savored it for a moment, and then his expression changed in a nanosecond. He started jerking and he looked around for a glass of water. Hogan saw this, got up, and poured him a cup of coffee. Carter snatched it away from Hogan and gulped it down. When he was done, he started breathing heavily.

"Jeeze, what did you put in that?" he demanded outrageously.

Before LeBeau could answer, Kinch and Newkirk got up and scrambled for the coffee pot.

Kinch grabbed it and hastily poured himself a cup of coffee. Newkirk snatched the pot away from him and also poured a cup. They chugged it down thirstily and gasped for breath when they were done.

"Blimey cor! What'd you put in that swill?" Newkirk demanded angrily. Kinch nodded in agreement. "Come on, I've tasted a lot of bad food, but that! That was the worst pot of Chili I've ever tasted!"

LeBeau snorted. "What do you expect? I'm a Frenchman, not-"

"So you've told us." Hogan interrupted with a sigh. "Well, we had a big lunch. We should probably hit the sack anyway. Tomorrow, I'll go see what Klink is up to. There's got to be some reason for him guarding his pantry."

All the men reluctantly got into their bunks, but not before stealing nasty glances over at LeBeau, who returned their glares.


	2. Chapter 2

Kinch punched his pillow and plopped down in his bunk, pretty upset with the dinner incident. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke, he sat up in bed. Yawning, he looked around the barrack. He suddenly realized with a start, that there was nobody there. He stood up and snapped his gaze around the room, looking around for the rest of the crew. All the beds had been stripped and the room was cold.

"Colonel?" he called out, traipsing over to Hogan's room and looking in. The CO's room was the same, the bed stripped and the room empty.

"Where did everybody go?" he muttered under his breath.

Then he smelled it; something was cooking on the stove, filling the air with a strange aroma.

Kinch hesitantly approached the wood stove, staring at the pot that was sitting there. It sounded like it was boiling and the lid was bobbing up and down, making a quiet clinging noise. Kinch frowned and grabbed the lid of the pot carefully. He lifted it slowly and then dropped it with a yelp. Inside the pot, were dozens and dozens of snakes. They slithered and squirmed beneath each other, hissing as their tongues darted in and out of their narrow mouths. Kinch backed up, suddenly feeling faint. The snakes started slithering out of the pot and all over the floor, like a flood. He shouted in shock and surprise and grew sick when the slimy creatures started slithering up his legs. He tried to shake them off, doing a wild dance around the room. No, no, no! This wasn't happening! Whoever had plotted this dirty trick, must've known hat Kinch was deathly afraid of snakes.

"Gaaa!" he cried out, before the biggest snake of them all, wrapped itself around Kinch's neck.

"NO!" he screamed, sitting up in bed. The room was dark and Kinch suddenly realized that he was back in the barracks with all the other POW's. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the quiet snores of his fellow prisoners. His stomach suddenly rumbled up a storm. _Gosh darn that chili!_ Shaking his head, he got up and decided to splash some water on his face. _Man, thank goodness that was a dream!_


	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, Carter was picking flowers in the woods, surrounded by little woodland animals. Squirrels chuckled and birds chirped as the sunlight streamed through the trees. Carter petted a little fawn as it pushed its head under his arm.

"Boy, you guys sure are friendly!" he noted. Carter bent down and scooped up more flowers. He sniffed them and sighed happily, walking along a petunia-lined trail.

All of a sudden, the wind picked up and the sky turned black. The little birds flew away and the fawn darted off into the undergrowth.

Carter's held his hat down as the wind threatened to steal it. Leaves blew in his face and he tried desperately to hold his ground. Thunder clapped above him and rain started to pour down. Then he heard it; whooping and hollering coming from somewhere in the distance. It got louder and louder, until Carter finally realized what it was: Indians. Hundreds of them, all on horseback, all with bows and arrows, all bearing down on one person: him.

Carter screamed and started to run. The wind pushed him back and the rain whipped his face. He ran and tripped over a felled tree. He landed squarely in the mud, but knew he had to get back up again. He kept on running and tripping, hoping to outrun the Indians.

Their whooping got louder and Carter suddenly felt a heavy breathing on his neck and realized that it was one of the Indians' horses, right behind him. He yelped in surprise as he was scooped up by one of the attackers.

"Let me go!" Carter cried, hitting the redskin.

The Indian didn't respond well to pain and frowned. He grabbed the soldier's leg and dangled him upside down. Carter screamed as he was dragged on by the horse, searing pain tearing up his back and neck.

"Stop! Stop!" he shouted over the wind and rain.

HH*HH*HH*HH*

"Stop! Stop!" Carter moaned, thrashing around in his bed covers. He woke with a start and realized that he was alright. His stomach suddenly started to throb and he groaned.

"Curse you, LeBeau!" he hissed.


	4. Chapter 4

Newkirk lay on his deathbed, suffering from an unknown ailment.

"How long has he got, doctor?" Hogan asked a young doctor, who looked mysteriously like LeBeau.

"I'd say he's lucky if he makes it through the night." the doctor answered. Hogan covered his face with one hand and rested the other on Newkirk's nightstand.

"He's too young to die! Not like this! Not like this!" he sobbed pathetically.

Newkirk raised his eyebrows and gasped. Who was going to die? Newkirk tugged on Hogan's jacket and cocked an eyebrow.

"Eh, what's this about someone dying?" he queried, pulling the covers up to his chest.

Hogan wiped away a tear and sniffed. "Oh, it's you, Newkirk! I'm sorry you overheard. We wanted to keep this from you for as long as possible."

"Keep what from me?"

"You're a goner, Newkirk!" Hogan cried out, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and shaking him. "You've got one foot in the grave, you'll be pushing up daisies, you're gonna buy the farm, you're gonna kick the bucket! Don't you understand what I'm saying? You're dead, Newkirk, dead, dead, dead!"

LeBeau gestured with his thumb towards the colonel.

"Get him out." Carter and Kinch nodded, and dragged their CO out. Hogan fought them and shook his head wildly.

"No! You can't take me!" the door slammed behind the three and LeBeau was left standing in the room.

"What am I suffer'n from, doc?" Newkirk questioned. LeBeau looked over his glasses and grabbed Newkirk's wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"I do not know. Something somewhere in the stomach. Most likely an ulcer."

Newkirk widened his eyes. "An ulcer? You can die from that?"

"If it is irritated to a certain point, yes." LeBeau replied.

Newkirk frowned, "What causes…er….irritation?"

LeBeau glanced at him. "Eh….spicy, ill-prepared food."

Newkirk made a fist and muttered, "Blimey, it must've been that darned chili!"

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and Hogan ran in, carrying a big pot of something steaming.

Kinch and Carter shouted after him. "Stop him!" they cried.

"Don't let him suffer anymore!" Hogan shouted, "Just speed up his demise!" with that, he dumped the whole pot of chili on Newkirk.

Newkirk felt burning hot chili splash all over him, and unbearable pain jolt through him. Yeah, he was going to die.

HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*

Newkirk woke up and gasped. He looked around the barracks and relaxed his tensed shoulders. Just a dream….

He felt sweat pouring down his forehead and his stomach ache with stabbing pain.

"Ga, that chili…"


	5. Chapter 5

Hogan sat on a couch with a gorgeous blonde-haired young woman. She was so thin and slinky, and her eyes….oh, they were the bluest. Yup, no breed of woman could compare to a well-made German girl. Well, almost.

"You're the most interesting man I've ever met." she said. Hogan nearly blushed.

"Well, I'm the most interesting man I've ever met, too." he agreed. The girl chuckled a bit and moved in to kiss him. Hogan turned back to her and screamed. He jumped up off the couch and flattened himself against the wall.

That wasn't any gorgeous blonde chick, she was an old hag! The woman cackled with delight. Her hair was long, white, and ratty, she was hunched and her clothes were that of rags. Her nose had to have been at least six inches long and pointy, not to mention the frightening wart on the end of it. Her hands were wrinkly and her fingers long and gnarled. Her nails were black and shiny and her teeth were crooked and falling out.

"Having fun, my dear?" she cackled wickedly. Hogan widened his eyes and breathed heavily.

"Well, uh, time passes the quickest when you're having fun, which means I've got to be leaving! Bye, see you!" the old hag made a move for the door, blocking Hogan's exit.

"But we haven't gotten to the fun part yet!" the hag declared sadistically. Hogan smiled slyly.

"Yeah uh, well, that's right, we haven't! And that's because the fun part is, me leaving! See you!"

The hag grabbed Hogan and laughed.

"Kiss me, Hogan!" she said, puckering her lips and drawing closer. Hogan screamed and woke up.

HH*HH*HH*HH*

"Good Lord!" he gasped, clenching his covers. He shook his head, clearing out all the distasteful memories of his dream. His stomach abruptly growled and he felt sick. Hogan covered his mouth and made a beeline for the sink.


	6. Chapter 6

LeBeau woke in a half-world of drowsiness aroused by the sound of heavy footsteps on the floor. He blinked open his eyes and saw Schultz and another sergeant carrying out a rectangular box.

"Poor Colonel Hogan!" Schultz sniffed. The other sergeant rolled his eyes and trudged forward, bearing most of the weight of the coffin. LeBeau went slack-jawed when he saw the three other coffins that lay on the floor.

"No! Newkirk! Kinch! Carter….well, I could do without him anyway." LeBeau snorted at the latter. He then fell to his knees and laid across the coffins.

"How could I have done this?"

Foster looked over LeBeau's shoulder and patted him.

"It's alright. There's nothing you could have done to save them." he consoled. LeBeau glanced up at him.

"How did this happen?"

Foster looked ahead and narrowed his eyes. "Food poisoning." he said grimly. LeBeau was horrified. His chili had done this! No! He was to blame!

"I'm a murderer!" he cried out, sobbing. Foster gasped.

"So it was you!" he shouted incredulously. The other POWs started throwing fruit and other items at the French corporal. He welcomed their assault, knowing full well that he deserved it.

HH*HH*HH*HH*

LeBeau sat up in bed, in a cold sweat. He widened his eyes and looked around at the bunks. Kinch, Carter, and Newkirk were missing.

His dream! It was true!

LeBeau hurriedly got out of bed and looked around the barrack. Running into Colonel Hogan's room, he saw them.

"Oh thank goodness, I thought I had killed you!"

Newkirk frowned. "Ya well, you're not far off, buddy."

Carter nodded. "Yeah. Worse dream ever. Remind me not to eat anymore of your chili!" Kinch shrugged.

"Sorry LeBeau. Your chili was…average."

Hogan twisted his lip in amusement. "Now, men, have a little respect. I'm sure LeBeau is willing to own up to his terrible mistake?"

LeBeau crossed his arms.

"Eh? How?"

Hogan smiled. "How's about you make us a cake?"

LeBeau grew excited. "Better yet, why not apple strudel?" he suggested. "There's a good corporal!" Hogan declared. Newkirk and Carter were a bit nervous.

"You're not gonna put chili powder in it, are you?" Carter asked warily.

Before LeBeau could reply, Hogan interrupted. "No, he's not. Tomorrow, we'll go to Klink and convince him that LeBeau wants to make him strudel, out of kindness of course. Then, when his kitchen is being used, we can sneak more supplies. It's as simple as that."

LeBeau nodded. "Yeah, who knows? I might even make soup!"

Kinch, Newkirk, Carter and Hogan all shouted at once a great big, "NO!"


End file.
